


Good Night Sweet Prince

by DeepShadows2



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: 1001 Nights, Gen, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Soul Walking, Suicide, The Ninth Captians Tale, Unsuccessful Suicide, fairytales - Freeform, sleeping death, suicide discussion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-21
Updated: 2020-09-27
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:20:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26587249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeepShadows2/pseuds/DeepShadows2
Summary: This was written for Prompt Week being held by HP Fanfiction (Snape Friendly) Discord Server and FB Group.Severus Snape is swept into something that is impossible.Hermione Granger is acting strange.Time is ticking.Will it be a Good Night?
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Severus Snape
Comments: 83
Kudos: 140





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Editted and updated as of 11/1/2020

****

**Prompt 2: Good night, Professor Snape.**

**With thumb and forefinger, he pulled a neatly folded scrap of parchment from his pocket and turned it over in his hands glaring at the missive through narrowed eyes as though he expected it to combust. After several moments he was satisfied the note was not hexed, or charmed, or full of Ichabod's Itching Powder so he unfolded it.**

**"Good night" was all it said. The hand was firm, precise, and maddeningly familiar. He slipped the piece of parchment back into his pocket, unsure if he was unsettled by Granger's note, or by the fact she had gotten close enough to him to place it in his pocket without his notice.**

Was it a code, or some manner of cipher? Surely Granger would not have risked such proximity for something as trivial as telling him good night in such a fashion.

No, there was something more to this slip of parchment.

He looked around for her, eyes scanning the crowded dining hall for the tell-tale sign of her unruly hair. 

Nothing.

She’d vanished.

First, she had closed in on his person without him sensing it, and now, she had disappeared into the din of children who were assembling an exodus to common rooms. 

_What was Granger playing at?_

Severus turned toward the door alongside the head table, intent on discovering the meaning behind this. Once in the empty corridor, he stole another glance at the diminutive note. It had to have been cut precisely to this size and carefully folded. He examined it, flipping it over so that he could look for some other hidden inscription.

Nothing but the same unnerving words.

**Good Night Sweet Prince.**

The tip of his wand nearly covered the words as he tried to force the parchment to reveal its secrets to him. 

Nothing changed.

Granger was clever; perhaps she’s managed to obscure any information, so if this fell into the wrong hands, it would not be discovered.

But why?

The war was over. Long over at that.

Was there some other impending danger that she anticipated his skills were needed for?

That had to be it.

Granger had discovered some ploy, some plot, and enlisted his help.

Except that daft woman had given him the key and not the keyhole.

Severus huffed angrily, tucking the missive away again.

_Who could be in danger at this time?_

Try as he might, he could not find any notion that he’d missed in the past day to allude to some unseen but lurking evil. 

He began to make his rounds, glaring at students so that they took quick jaunts to their common rooms. Lights out was not far off, and if something was coming, he’d rather them in the safety of dorms, where older magics could save them.

Minerva ambled past him, saying nothing, and he wondered if the know-it had too informed her-all among their ranks of the happenings.

He caught a glance of the woman in question, seemingly scaring the first year Hufflepuffs from the dungeons and toward the kitchens. Perhaps she had the same notion of protecting the children with house magics.

Her brown eyes met his, and she gave the slightest of nods, a smile curving along the edge of her lips.

Severus did not know what to make of it, so he halted in his approach, waiting for her to send the children off.

As soon as she was alone, he closed the gap, flicking out a spell around them to keep interlopers from hearing their words.

“What is the meaning of this?” He growled at her, his head lowered even though he knew that none could hear them.

Professor Granger jerked back a step. “The meaning of what?”

“Your Missive Granger.” Severus tucked his hand into the pocket of his coat, fumbling for the folded offending item.

Brown eyes stared at him now, something was off about them, but he wasn't sure what. “My missive? You mean my note?’

Snape waved his hand at her as he pulled the parchment from his pocket. “Semantics are inconsequential. Is there a present danger to the school?”

“You think the school- Of course, you would.” Granger let out a huff of laughter, her eyes darting around the surrounding area.

Her behavior was almost as maddening as the note. “I find nothing humorous at this moment, Professor Granger.”

“It is a kindness, Headmaster.” Hermione Granger offered, one arm crossed over her chest as the other now touched her temple.

This perplexed Severus. _What was Granger’s game?_

“You put yourself within striking distance of me for a friendly gesture?”

She shrugged at him, shaking her head. She was not acting normal, he could tell by the gesture.

She checked around them as if she were watching for someone to come. “I wanted to do something nice.”

Severus’s suspicion rose with his brow. “For what purpose?”

“To try to cheer you up, I suppose. It seems; instead, I only woke you up.” Granger said.

It was as if she were speaking in code, but he could not understand what was between the lines.

Severus perceived a ghost of a frown over her face. 

He scowled. “Indeed.”

With a flick of his wand, the noise of the school returned, no longer muffled.

He turned heed, intent on finishing rounds before he had to attend to school matters without another word.

If there was danger, Granger would not play games and mince words over it.

It was some childish game, some notion to get under his skin.

His better judgment stopped him. _Unless... She couldn't say what she needed... A taboo or a hex..._

“Headmaster Snape?” Hermione Granger’s voice called after him.

He paused, not looking back at her, his hands clasped before him. “Yes, Professor Granger.”

“Good night.” Her voice was overladen with saccharine sweetness. Something was definitely wrong.

“Hmph… Good night indeed.”

He took another step, and she spoke once more. “Also, the password is Serendipity.”

His perplexity and concern caused him to turn to confront her confounding behavior again.

“What on earth-" The hall behind him was empty."-where did that blasted woman go again?”

She was gone.

Again.

_Serendipity? The password is Serendipity?_

Severus wrinkled his forehead, trying to piece together this puzzling behavior of the young woman.

Minerva interrupted his thoughts as she turned the corner on him. “Severus? Have you seen Professor Granger?”

“A moment ago, yes, did you need her.” Snape grumbled, tucking the piece of paper away.

Minerva fixed him with a skeptical gaze. Her head tilted forward, and he felt like he was being scrutinized. “No one else has seen her _all_ day. Her students said she was not there, but there was work on the board that changed between classes.”

Of course, they had seen her; she was in the hall for dinner merely a half-hour ago.

Minerva had to be exaggerating.

The missing her own classes added a strange layer to the baffling situation of Miss Granger. “It is unlike Granger to skip out on being a know-it-all.”

“As I supposed as well. But if you have seen Hermione, perhaps she is simply taking a day to herself.” Minerva sighed, turning to walk away from him.

Severus rubbed the paper between his fingers in his pocket for a moment. “Perhaps not.”

“Severus?” Minerva questioned, her own expression filled with genuine concern.

Snape cleared his throat, tucking the hand holding the paper behind his back. “Perhaps we should investigate why she shirked her duties. I am not fond of my staff, not doing as they are paid to do.”

“Maybe she is ill.” Minerva offered.

Severus furrowed his brow at the older woman. “She did not look ill a moment ago.”

Turning quickly, Severus began the ascent to the 3rd floor. Granger’s quarters had been installed once all the leftover madness of rebuilding the castle had been completed.

While he’d never been there during her occupation of the rooms, he knew where they were. Minerva was not more than a step behind him.

Stopping at the swanmay portrait, he glowered at the painting. “Here to meet Professor Granger.”

“Passcode?” The lithe woman wearing a cloak of swan feathers demanded.

Minerva fretted next to him. “Severus, I do not know her password.”

_The password is Serendipity…_

“Serendipity.” Severus drew out the word, his eyes narrowed. If it worked, it meant Granger wanted him to come here, but why, for what purpose?

The portrait shifted, the door opening for them.

“She told me downstairs. For what purpose, I do not know.” Severus offered to Minerva.

Advancing into the room, he noticed it was not lit, even by firelight.

“Professor Granger, are you here?” Minerva called at his side. 

Severus lit the fireplace, golden-red light flooding the darkened room.

Minerva gasped.

Granger was on her stomach face down by her desk, a mess of paperwork and ink all over the floor.

“Granger?”

_How was this possible, he’d sighted her mere moments ago?_

He looked around for the trick, the trap, the springing of the cage snapping closed.

This had to be some sort of prank meant to instill some manner of fear in him.

“Minerva checks her, I shall see if there is anyone else here.” Severus drew his wand, ready to hex Potter and Weasley they second they leap out with their surprise.

Her bedchamber was empty, save for mountains and mountains of books on every surface.

The lavatory was open as well.

“Severus, she is icy to the touch.” Minerva shouted.

Snape returned to the sitting area, moving to kneel by the fallen woman.

The ink on the floor was dried, which meant the spill was not fresh.

His fingers sought her pulse, and he had to overcome the shock she was deathly cold.

Nothing was there.

He glanced at Minerva, who had already begun to well up with tears.

Before he could open his mouth to express orders, he detected it.

Faint, so faint it could have been an echo of his own.

“She has a pulse, get Poppy, **NOW**.” He bellowed, and Minerva moved with a speed that went against the principle of her age.

How this came to be fell back behind the urgency to save her. Severus turned her over and realized in her hand was still a quill.

“I told you, sir. Good Night Sweet Prince.” Another Granger was standing there behind the desk now.

Even though he held Hermione Granger’s body against his knees on the floor.

He squinted his eyes, taking a moment to actually look at what he was seeing.

The other Hermione, was incorporeal.

Something in his chest seemed to freeze at the notion.

His fingers sought the pulse again, and it was still there, sluggish and low.

“Miss Granger, are you dead?” Severus asked the phantom before him.

She shook her head, sighing. “Not yet, Sir, but if you don’t catch on soon, I will be.”

“Granger, do not bet your life on riddles.” Severus scolded.

She frowned and lowered her head. It was like witnessing the woman transform into the young lost first year again. “It is not my wish to do so. I am constrained to the rules of the spells involved.”

“What can you say about what has happened to you?” Severus asked, searching around the room now for hints or clues, to this madness that he’d stumbled into. 

She smiled, once again, the bright Professor. “Good Night Sweet Prince.”

“Good Night Sweet Prince? Girl, give me more than that?” Severus snarled, looking over her person.

“It is a kindness to go this way. In dreams. But these dreams are twisted, like fragments torn asunder and reformed not appropriately.” The phantasm said, ambling around the desk and coming to squat next to her own body.

Severus watched as she went to touch her own face, but simply went through it.

Severus sniped. “Now you sound like Trelawney.”

“Warmer.” The ghost looked up with a mad grin.

His eyes narrowed, and he stood now, moving toward her desk. “Trelawny did this.”

“No, Sir, one of the spells is from divination, however, think!” Spectre Granger shouted.

Severus peered over the contents of her desk, hunting for what she was working on.

Perhaps it would give him some clues because he had no desire to play Sphinx Games with Granger while she slowly ceased to exist. 

Finding nothing, he passed his wand over her body, searching for curses or hexes.

Nothing.

A drawing stood out from behind the pile of her hair. 

Severus pulled it, looking it over. 

“Much warmer, nearly scalding.” The phantom said, sitting now on the desk.

He knew that plant.

_Sleeping Nightshade._

Another diagram.

_Doll’s eyes._

Had the fool woman been playing with a potent plant combination?

He rolled her frigid limp body now toward him, looking over the notes she had sprawled across.

Her maddening script was over all manner of copied pages out of the most potent potions textbook.

It looked like she was trying to draw conjuncture from a series of potions, writing a recipe for disaster along the edges.

_Recurring Nightmares? Check! Merlin, I would sell my soul for one full night of sleep._

_Contingency Plan?! Snape. Antidote._

_Soul Walking? Have to practice at night. Do some rounds so that I can orient._

_What had she been playing with?_

“Granger, are you soul walking?” Severus asked the being overseeing him.

She beamed at him, her legs kicking and moving through the desk with each movement. “Yes, I am, very good.”

Severus scowled at her. “Do not patronize the person who holds your life in their hands.”

“If I were afraid you would kill me, then I wouldn’t have chosen you.” She chuckled, shaking her head.

Severus frowned, his fingers rechecking her pulse as he tried to figure out what she’d given herself.

Without knowing precisely what she had in her system, pinpointing an antidote would be complicated.

He did not suspect this was one that a bezoar would solve. “You put significant faith in a man you barely know.”

“You know that soul walking requires a steady grasp on reality. I think I know you well enough.” Granger hummed, standing and looking over his shoulder as he spread the papers out in a pattern that made sense. 

She reached out, and he felt the push of magic as she moved one to a different position.

It appeared that Professor Granger had figured out how to replicate an impossible potion.

No wonder she was half dead at this point. “So, you ended up poisoning yourself?”

“Not exactly, but you are on fire with how close you are.” Hermoine Granger’s soul teased him.

He rolled his eyes, glancing at her. “Granger.”

“Poison means it’s not doing its intended purpose, but sometimes these materials aren’t as clear in the textbooks as we would like.” She explained, pointing to a picture of the potion that supposedly did not exist.

He studied over the label, working out the Latin in his mind. “You brewed it wrong.”

“Oh no, I brewed it perfectly. Or else I would already be dead.” She seemed so proud of herself.

Severus eyed at her like she was mad.

Then again, this was the soul that had less of the polite limits of the body. 

“Then-” Severus finished the translation, stringing it together.

His heart stopped. Hermione had managed to replicate the Osculum Killing Sleep, a potion romantically known as the Good Night Sweet Prince potion.

It was a potion of yore used to kill many a royal family member by them sleeping to never wake.

It was highly dangerous and would induce the body to simply stop working. 

“Granger, you mistook the _**Osculum Killing Sleep**_ for a nightmare reducer!”

“There is the Potion's Master I need,” Granger said smugly.

This was impossible. Even Severus's own master could not brew that potion; it was considered a Grandmaster's mark to brew it. It required focus, skill, and costly rare ingredients.

One misstep and the whole substance was wasted, and you had to start again. “How on earth?”

“I haven’t slept for more than 12 hours in nearly three weeks. I was going a bit mad.” Hermione mused, sitting cross-legged in front of him now.

Severus pinched his brow, shifting now to pick her body up. She was dead weight and a bit heavier than he anticipated “You idiot- Somnia Mortis Osculum will **_KILL_** you.”

“Which is why _you_ are here.” She explained, watching him rise. 

Severus snapped at her. “I don’t even know if we have enough antidote to save you.”

“I know.” It was said with such a calm that part of him wondered if it wasn’t her intention to die all along.

For a soul to not be rallying against its body's death was very uncommon. 

He looked at the woman in his arms, casting a levitation spell to lift her and head toward the infirmary. “If you survive this, we are having a long talk.”

“Oh, if we survive this, I expect there will be much to talk about.” The soul of Hermione Granger said, getting up to walk behind him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> By Popular Demand, I bring you Chapter 2 of Good Night, Sweet Prince.
> 
> Since this story had no proper planned second chapter, I hope this turns out as nice as everyone hoped. - Tea

The fool woman was **barely** alive.

Severus had reached out through every avenue that he could for answers on how to save her. 

The International Potioneer’s Assembly had held a special emergency conference over it. 

The brightest minds and even two Grandmasters came out of the woodworks to solve this problem.

They could give him nothing but suggestions. No one had been recorded surviving Osculum Killing Death before.

The Wizarding World was treating her in part like she was already dead, as they'd mourned the loss of her great mind.

Of course, he’d been accused of being the one to poison her. 

Old grudges died hard. 

Severus bore the attacks with the calm he’d gained over the years for being hated for his sins, real or imaginary.

The real issue at hand was there was no antidote and that if she'd taken too much there would be no hope for her. He had no idea how much she'd actually imbibed. 

It was impossible to determine, and her soul could only go so far and say so much. 

It wasn’t natural for one to soul walk for as long as Granger had been, and it had shown how faint the form had become. 

However, Granger was stubborn, saying that if she rejoined with her body, there would be no way for her to start the spell again.

When the Assembly could find no resolutions, Severus turned to other, older magicks. 

The potion had originated in the oldest times, even long before Hogwarts was more than a hill by a lake. 

He’d reached out to wild witches of the Black Forest, the Sirens of Gibraltar, Dragon Masters, and Monk Herbalists from all over the world. 

So far, he came to more questions than answers.

“I should let you expire for your abhorrent disregard for safety,” Severus grumbled at her, looking over the notes she’d left behind. The only thing that could give him some sense into this madness. Severus had been trying to solve this puzzle for weeks. 

Her soul sat on a window sill, looking out on to the grounds. Much of the mirth and riddles had dimmed with the intensity of her appearance. “I cannot stop you. I am, as you remind me, at  _ your mercy _ .”

Frustration colored his face red. “Granger, why did you think _ this _ was the option. Other options existed for sleep.”

“If you think I didn’t try _everything_ I could before I did this, then you forget who I am.” She looked at him pointedly, anger rippling over her in visible reds. The weaker her hold on herself got, the harder it was to keep her humanoid form, rather than an amalgamation of light and feelings.

Severus snarled at her. “So, you locked yourself in a sleep that is meant to kill you.”

“In Romeo and Juliet, it **didn’t** kill her. It simply put her to rest to be woken later.” Granger’s shade smiled sadly, her shoulders slumping.

Snape stood from where he was sitting, his hand clenching into a fist. “Wiliam Shakespeare didn’t even _pass_ his N.E.W.T.S.!”

“How was I supposed to know that? You didn’t even know that until you talked to that historian.” Her soul shouted back at him, pulling into his space with unearthly speed.

He pinched his forehead, taking the step back from the shimmering and wavy red image. “The point is Granger, you put your life in the hand of  _ fairytales _ . And you ended up with a very deadly one indeed.”

The shade sighed and returned to the window near the head of the bed that held her body. 

Out of habit, Severus reached for her throat, checking her pulse. 

It was there, more robust than it had been, but barely. 

She was at least breathing now, even if it was faint and barely noticeable.

“I thought the Snow White attempt wouldn’t work, so not all fairytales.” Granger’s soul said with a dramatic sigh that spoke volumes.

It was hard for him to contain his amusement as he thought over how well that went. He was confident that it was all an idiotic attempt for the youngest Weasley to try to win Granger’s heart again, but it had blown up in his face. 

Seeing him leave, tail between his legs after arguing with her soul.

“Yes, well, you managed to break the Weasley’s boy's heart without _even_ being awake. The highlight of my week, I assure you.” Severus offered, returning to his collection of her writings.

She shifted, laughing. “I knew Ronald wasn’t my true love. My true love would not be  _ that _ stupid.”

“Granger, stop with the idiocy. True love does **not** exist and will not save you. Do you grasp that you could cease to exist? That your brilliance and intelligence will be _stolen_ from the world if we do not save you.” His blood pressure was raising the more she went on with idiotic prattle about things that were not going to fix it.

Granger’s soul darkened. “Yes, you remind me at every moment. My  _ weakness _ reminds me.”

Her words stopped him in his furious reading. Severus looked at the apparition, seeing that the lines of the window were barely visible through her. 

When this had first happened, she was able to keep a form that was hard to tell wasn’t solid, and now, she was a wisp of that.

“Weakness?” Severus asked her, head tilted to the side.

More darkness, with lines of red, seemed to color over her visage. It was unnerving to be able to see the rapid shifting of emotions and where they say on her. “I can no longer do certain magic. Simple magic, yes, but the strain on me is too great to do much of anything.”

More signs that she was putting undue strain on her soul. 

He wondered what would happen to her if her soul faded out or exhausted. 

Would she die, or would it return to her body, forced to rejuvenate? 

So far, she was looking at being the 2nd longest soul walker in existence. 

The first had walked in a desert for nearly a month trying to find their body, only to discover it was in a hospital. 

They also had years of experience in the art, and Granger did not. 

She’d practiced a month barely before doing this. 

Fortunately, she kept detailed notes about her progress.

Severus looked at the pale-skinned form in the bed. “You need to remerge with your body.”

“If I am going to die, I am going to  _ watch _ it. Like I did with everyone else. Like I did with you.” The shade was like a cloudy sky, grey and black, now as she moved from the window. 

She stood over herself, and Severus had to cope with the unsettling sensation of seeing through her to her body.

Snape cleared his throat, trying to shift the mood. He was not comfortable with this line of conversation.“This is not a time to wax poetic about what you suffered.”

“It _never is_ , is it.” The tone was dark as the navy joined the swirl of color. 

Her edges were fading, the form starting to look less like a woman and more like a ghost.

“Granger!” Severus hoped to snap her out of the emotional mood. 

He knew it could be draining on her soul, and if she was weak, it would not do to expend more energy than needed.

She turned on him, red moving in like a hurricane. The edges started to sharpen, her finger more outlined as she pointed at him.“You know, I have a first name, Severus.”

“I do know it, and I prefer to keep a professional distance from my staff.” He said, crossing his arms, not precisely pleased that she was pointing at him, but the effect he wanted came to be. 

She was stronger now, more vibrant, not nearly as transparent.

“Like Minerva and Filius, and Rubeus?” She accused him.

“I- “ Severus did not have an answer for her. He did, in fact, call every other staff member by their first name. Even Neville. He did not have time to examine it as she growled and began to pace.

Her words were dripping with sarcasm. “Amazing, the one time I manage to stun you with your double standards, and I can’t even fully _enjoy_ it.”

“Granger.” He cut in.

She screamed at him, the sound almost inhuman. “ _HERMIONE!_ ”

Severus took a step back and watched as she turned from him, retreating to the window. 

He watched the shade sit on the leg and tuck it’s legs up as if she were in a physical form. She did not look at him. Blue shifted over her exterior, and he watched her narrow her eyes, exacting control over herself until she was normal in coloration and nearly opaque again.

Something about what she’d said had struck a chord. If she was going to die, she was going to watch it. 

Had that been the plan, to watch herself die, but her soul had gotten it into her to try to save herself at the last minute.

“Hermione, did you do this  _ on purpose _ .” He spoke quietly, almost respectfully of the implied topic. He knew that she would know what he meant. Her perception of implication had always been on par with his own.

She shook her head, giving him a stern look. “I _ already _ told you, I wanted to get a good deep sleep.”

“The more I spend time with your soul, the more I find that _hard_ to believe.” He crossed his arms, demanding an answer from her with his expression. 

The sound of air leaving the soul was audible even if she wasn’t breathing. “Well, then maybe you should have gotten to know me as the  _ whole _ person first.”

Again, she had him. Severus had done his best to avoid her when possible. He didn’t need the headache of her prattling and had no desire to make small talk with her. 

It was the whole reason that her initial note had been so out of the blue. Granger never seemed to interact with him either.

“Perhaps I should have.” He admitted, more to himself than to her. He knew more about Neville Longbottom and his wife than what Granger had been doing for the last few years in this castle.

“I feel like I need to rest.” Granger’s shade said, and he could see her fading again, the energy from the anger obviously disappearing.

This spiked his curious nature. Soul walking was something he was not intimately familiar with, as he had no desire to be outside of himself at any point. “How does a soul rest.”

“My soul rest in  _ books _ and  _ quiet libraries _ , and the smell of _ parchment, fresh-cut grass _ , and  _ spearmin _ t. In the smell of  _ my mother’s hair _ and the sound of  _ my father’s laughter _ . I rest in the sound water makes when it  _ laps against stone _ , or how  _ quills sound on parchmen _ t. The  _ stillness of midnight on a moonless night _ and the _ cold solitude of winter outside _ .” She was smiling as she listed off this fantastical list, and Severus noticed that he’d never seen her smile. Not a full smile like this. 

_ Was he missing some joke? _

“Is that meant to be humorous?” He asked her, retaking his seat.

She shook her head, the smile receding. “Not in the slightest. It is the truth of my soul.”

“None of those things are here.” He explained, looking around the room. The only exception was a quill, and he wasn’t writing so that sound wasn’t in play.

The smile turned sad, and she shrugged. “I know. But I can think of them and feel rejuvenated.”

“Would it help if some of that could be brought here.” Severus wondered if it would give her soul more strength and maybe more time to get to her body to survive and wake by providing those things.

Ghostly lips twisted wistfully. “I do not have a sense of smell as a soul. I can hear, but I have no other senses.”

Severus stood, nodding. “I shall see what I can do about some of those sounds then. If it can aid you with more time, it will benefit us both.”

“Thank you, Severus. Could you do me another favor?” The phantom asked, moving toward him with hopeful eyes.

He scowled, raising his eyebrow at her. “I’m not in the habit of doing favors, so it depends on your request.”

“I really feel like a fairytale is an answer. I just don’t know which one. Would you ask Madam Pince if she could bring me a few books to flip through? I have enough magic for that.” She seemed to beseech him with her eyes, and he could feel the hope radiating off of her.

“I will  _ consider _ it.” 

She nodded at him, moving back to her chosen perch. “My thanks, Severus.”

“Do not waste your strength, Gran-  _ Hermione _ ,” Severus ordered, leaving the medical wing. Not before noticing that she smiled again when he said her name.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yet another Chapter. I have decided that there will be two more for this tale.

He’d almost become desperate for a solution.

Scratch that, Severus _was_ desperate for answers and more time. Hermione’s body was starting to fail again, and the antidotes used to stop it were not effective.  He gave her at most two days at this rate.

He needed more time.

If Severus could figure out a way to get her more time, then he could figure something out. She’d been asleep for three weeks at this point. He wasn’t going to give up on this until she had expired with no chance of rescue.

Which is why he was here. With the Boy-Who-Lived turned Man-Who-Won. 

Granger had impressed on him that some fairytales were correct, and he knew about the Beedle the Bard tale that had been true. If the Elder wand existed and the Resurrection Stone, then the cloak might have the powers that it had been ascribed.

_...The third and youngest brother, who was the most humble and wise, did not trust Death and asked for something to enable him to go forth without Death being able to follow. A reluctant Death, most unwillingly, handed over a part his own Invisibility cloak… _

If Potter’s Invisibility Cloak could shroud her from death, then she might have a little longer.

“If you are sure it will help her, Snape. But I expect it returned and not buried with her.” Potter’s face was grim and not the least bit inclined to sensitivity over his ‘friends’ plight. 

Severus assumed that the man had given her for dead as well. It was frustrating, as he knew for a fact that she’d not given up on him so quickly at any time. “Have you given up on her so easily?”

“You said so yourself; no one has ever woken up from this poison.” The younger man sighed, opening a trunk.

_Who was Potter, **of all people** , to doubt the power of challenging something that seemed impossible?_

Severus snorted. “No one has ever lived through  _ two _ Killing curses, either.”

Potter’s face darkened into something morose, his hands holding a shining silvery fabric in his fingers. He walked over toward Severus, his features drooping and mouth wavering between neutral and frown. “Yeah, well, it came at a price, didn’t it. Blood on my hands, I can’t wash away.”

“You get used to. The cloak.” Severus said, extending his hand for the item in question. 

It was far softer than he had expected when it was placed in his hands. He grasped it, pulling it to his person and draping it over his arm.

It was worth a shot; at this point, anything was worth trying.

“You might have, I don’t know if I will,” Potter said after a moment of silence.

Severus raised an eyebrow at him and then furrowed his brow. “There has been some mistake, as you seem to think I care about  _ your _ price paid for that war.”

“If you don’t care, why are you trying to save her?” Potter demanded, his retort full of vitriol.

Severus cleared his throat, having had to answer this question more times than he cared to. “I said, I don’t care about  _ your _ price paid. Granger’s mind has a chance to do a great amount of good in the world. Losing her would be a blow to advancements in many fields.”

Harry Potter glared at him, his eyes narrowing with a balled fist. Something about what he said had struck a chord, it seemed.

“So, like Dumbledore, you are saving her because you  _ need _ her for something.”

The words raked over an old wound, and Severus tilted his head. “Your cheek is not needed. I am no more the man I killed; than you are the one, you killed. Good evening.”

He turned to leave the room, barely hearing the man’s snarl. “Yeah. Go.”

By the time he’d returned to the castle, Severus had managed to push away the unkempt emotions of the man’s words and focus on the task at hand. Stepping into the infirmary, he heard humming from the private room that her body had been placed in. It was not the voice of the soul of Hermione Granger.

He approached cautiously, wondering who was in there with her. Severus did not expect what he had found.

Luna Lovegood was sitting there, brushing and braiding Granger’s hair and tucking bright yellow daffodil flowers into the plaits. She was humming a soft yet haunting tune and smiling. Granger’s soul sat perched in the window, head tilted back against the frame, eyes closed with a broad smile on her face. 

“Do sit, Headmaster, I have enough flowers that I can do your hair as well,” Luna said without looking at him.

Severus drew himself up, stepping into the room. “Miss Lovegood, I was not expecting you.”

The pale young woman looked at him with an otherworldly smile. “I suppose not. I should be in Switzerland right now, chasing banshees with Rolf.”

Severus moved to the other side of the bed, his fingers seeking a pulse from the sleeping woman. He knew where the artery was without needing to aim at this point. It was still there, and he was grateful for it. It was the only real sign of her life without the need for magic.

“And I suppose you are here to mourn her as everyone else.” Severus sighed, minding to not mess up Lovegood’s artistry.

Luna looked shocked and shook her head. “Oh, Merlin, _no_ , I heard her soul call out to me. I’m here to help.”

“I didn’t know I was calling for her, but she showed up and said she heard me whispering to her.” Hermione’s soul finally spoke.

He looked between the two of them, skeptical.

“And how do you propose to help, Miss Lovegood, when experts have left us with nowhere to turn.” Severus cleared his throat, not concealing his disbelief.

Luna went back to braiding and caring for Hermione’s hair. Her eyes looked toward the windowsill, where the soul sat and grinned. “Hermione has been telling me what you’ve tried already.”

Severus paused. “You can speak to her?”

“I can. Can’t everyone else?’

No one else had been able to speak to Granger’s soul. When she was at her strongest, she could be seen by everyone, but her words were the sound of the wind to them. The fact that Luna could both see her and hear her was a new addition to this puzzle.

“No, it seems that Miss Granger chose me to bind to in case something such as this occurred.” Snape still didn’t know how she’d done it, but it was the reason she’d given him when he asked why only he could hear her.

“Because you are compatible souls.” Luna’s voice was nearly singsong.

A snort escaped Severus. “No, because she trusts in people she hardly knows.”

She fixed him with her pale, silvery eyes, and the sensation that she was looking at his very soul overcame him as she spoke. “That wasn’t a question, Headmaster, can’t you see it?”

Lovegood had always had an alien manner about her, and Severus found himself unsettled by her more now than he had when she was a child. There was a wisdom in her eyes that did not correspond with her age.

He pulled the cloak from within his other robes. “Miss Lovegood, I have hardly time to play guessing games.”

“He does not see it, Luna.” Hermione offered, slipping down from the window and moving to stand next to the blonde woman.

All the attention was off of him now as he watched the woman gaze with genuine compassion and affection at Hermione. “Shame, it’s lovely. Shall I go back to singing to you like your mother did, or do you feel stronger now?”

“Much better, Luna.” Hermione smiled, and he could tell that her form was stable now. When he’d left her, she was see-through.

“Good, because he has Harry’s cloak and it might disorient you when he puts it over your body.” The young woman said, looking at Severus with a pointed gaze.

Severus looked at the cloak in his hands, wondering if Luna had been sent here by Potter to ensure that the cloak was used as it was meant to be and not for something else. “How do you know that this is Mr. Potters, Miss Lovegood.”

Another cheerful smile. “Harry’s cloak feels like a cold spot, wherever it is. You feel like you have that cold spot on you.”

“Did he agree.” Hermione interrupted Severus’s thoughts, moving around the bed to look at the cloak in Severus’s hands.

Severus nodded, his lips tight. “Yes, but he asked it not to be buried with you.”

“Doesn’t Harry know we are going to save her?” Luna tilted her head at him as if she was confused.

A shake of his head accompanied his words. “Miss Lovegood, he does not think that it can be done.”

Luna put one of her hands on her hips, looking at him as if he were a child who had made a mistake. “Well, did you tell him it could be.”

“Until it is done, I will not raise any hopes, but Hermione’s,” Severus explained.

Opening the cloak to its full size, he draped it over her sleeping form. She disappeared from sight as it fell over her chest. He left her head and hair uncovered as Luna was still doing as she was.

Hermione’s shade wavered a bit, her arms pulling around her as if she were freezing. “Oh, it does feel cold, I don’t like that at all.”

“Would you rather continue to expire?” His words were pointed, knowing her discomfort was nothing compared to death.

“No, leave it.” She shook her head, sitting on the bed next to her obscured body. “Luna and I have an idea, but you are going to have become comfortable with a lot of concepts in a short time.”

Anything that involved Lovegood and having to get comfortable with things spelled trouble. “I am hesitant to ask what concepts.”

“Well, Headmaster, have you ever read the original version of 1001 Nights?” Luna chimed in, tucking another flower into a braid.

Severus had not; he assumed it was a fairytale, and in his life, he didn’t require frivolity. However, he wasn’t surprised that Granger and Lovegood had colluded to find some story to solve this issue.

With a quiet admission, he took his seat at the desk he’d been conducting research at. “I have not.”

“Let me get my copy.” Luna stood up, placing the flowers on top of the invisibility cloak. It looked as if they were floating in thin air. She moved to get a bag by the door, her gait smooth.

Severus looked at the flowers curiously. “Why Daffodils, Miss Lovegood.”

“They protect against soul sprites, they are tricksters, you know. And they mean new life, Hermione is going to have a new life when she wakes up.”


	4. Chapter 4

Minerva stood cross-armed, her spectacles perched on her nose as she looked over them.

Severus did not have time for her obstinacy. In reality, neither did Hermione. Her pulse was almost gone, magic showing that her heart was still weakly beating.

“Severus, I do not agree with this at all.” Minerva tsked.

Severus turned to her as he laid the white fabric across the hospital bed. “Minerva, do you have another option I could try, a  _ suitable _ substitution.”

He heard her huff with irritation. “You know that I have exhausted my options as much as you have.”

“Then, either help me or get out of my way.” Severus glowered, knowing full well that everyone had exhausted their options that could be done in a timely matter. If they had years, then maybe there could be another option, but at this point, Hermione’s soul was withering with her body.

“Miss Lovegood, is this going to be safe?” Professor McGonagall turned to Luna.

Luna did not look up from her delicate task of decorating a wreath of yew wood with chrysanthemums, marigolds, and daisies. “Of course, he’s _already_ died once before.”

“That is not reassuring, Luna.” The older woman said, pushing her glasses back. 

“I am not actually dying, Minerva. You know as well as I do that some spells require ritual. This is a ritual that Lovegood has discovered that might have some possibility of merit.” Severus turned from her now, glancing over what they had set up already. It was nearly done. The second room had been dimmed, only small candles illuminating it, the curtain covered with a black shroud.

Minerva tsked behind him. “What happened the _ frivolity _ of fairytales?”

His head dropped, and for a moment, he was unable to conceal how tired he was. His hair fell around his face, limp and lifeless as he took in a deep breath. Severus hadn’t slept well in three weeks. How could he?

He swallowed hard, rubbing his face, turning to Minerva with a solemn expression. “You want to watch her die?”

Minerva took a step back, shocked. “That is unfair.”

“It is an honest question. Should I stop my research and let Hermione die?” He asked her, gesturing to the room where Hermione’s body was barely clinging to its mortal coil.

Her lips pursed, and he could see the grief and pain in her eyes as the lines around them elongated. “You know I don’t. I wouldn’t ask you to do that.”

His voice was quiet, worn, and he had no time for the act anymore. “Then drop the stubborn sensibility and help Hermione.”

“I hope I do not regret this,” Minerva said, uncrossing her arms.

Severus understood and gave her an agreeing not. “As do it. Now, Miss Lovegood, explain to Minerva what we are doing and how she can help.”

“Of course, Headmaster,” Luna said, pale eyes glancing between then before returning to her work. 

  
  
  


Luna began to explain the plan in a hauntingly wise voice. Severus had heard it more times than he cared for at this point, as the young witch had not stopped until he agreed because there were no other options. In the ‘the Ninth Captians Tale,’ the prince had tried to wake a princess who met the potion requirements but could only rouse her soul, not her body, by removing the flax that had killed her. He’d given up and moved on when she tried to follow him from the tomb but could not. The princess mourned and grieved and wailed when a spirit took pity on her. She had made a deal with a spirit, that she could be once again woken. But the caveat was that only one who had both known the embrace of death and the known the pain of love lost could wake her. They’d already determined that the true love part was added for flair. 

Luna had a point, however. Among all the people they knew, Severus was the only one who had met both requirements. He had died that night in the shack to be revived by Hermione, and he had lost his young love of Lily. He did not like that it was a counting factor in this, but he had little to argue against it.

In the story, the parents of the prince wrapped him in a funeral shroud and entombed him. The mother mourned loudly, proclaiming to the kingdom that her son was dead. After the mourning of his life finished, the princess's soul unwrapped the shrouds, and he was able to bring her back to life. Luna had dug into the tale's origins and had found a ritual that was precisely what had been described. Severus did not like it one bit, but he was willing to try anything at this point.

Which is why they were preparing a tomb simile so that Luna could perform the ritual on him. However, his parents were both deceased, and that meant the closest thing he had was Minerva. He was asking much of her. Maybe too much. She would have to fold him in the shroud and treat him as if he were dead.

Severus watched Minerva’s face as she took in what was being told to her. Her face held untold stories of fear and pain. He almost told her not to worry about, that they could surely do it without her, but he wasn’t sure of that himself. So he bit back the reservation and continued to follow the directions given to him. 

  
  
  


His part in this ritual, while the strangest, was the least involved. He would drink a simple sleeping draught. He’d brewed it himself, he knew what it would do, and he was unperturbed by it. Everyone else would have to bear much of the ritual on themselves.

“You look nervous.” Hermione’s soul said quietly, her voice little more than a whisper. It was hard for even him to see her now, as she was like a thin piece of distorted glass over the world.

He shook his head. “You should be saving your strength.”

“It is not as hard to speak to you as it to do anything else. How is the ritual coming?” He could see her move out of the corner of his eye. She was trying to touch the funeral wreath that Luna had made.

Severus let out a deep breath, knowing she would not rest until she knew. “Minerva has agreed, and we will start as soon as the sunsets. How strong do you feel?”

“Not at all. I suspect that this will be my last sunset.” Hermione's whispered voice was resigned.

Concern rested on his face, and he turned to her. “Do not think that. Despair will weaken you farther.”

A cold chill rested on his shoulder, and he could faintly see a hand on him. Hermione was touching him as best as she could. “I am not in despair. It is a quiet calm. I have an admission to make to you before you start.”

He knew what she was going to say. He’d known instinctively from the start, but the longer time went on and the more she said, the more he understood. Severus was too tired for the long-winded story she would give him.

So he beat her to the punch, speaking in a soft tone to not allow Minerva and Luna to hear him. “That you’ve been _lying_ to me, and that you **meant** to kill yourself, but your soul decided against it. You poorly made a choice to watch yourself die, and you bound yourself to not be able to tell anyone what you did so you couldn’t be saved.”

The color yellow rippled over her surface, and he knew she was embarrassed, even before her voice showed it. “How long have you known?”

At this, he gave her a raised eyebrow, rolling his eyes. “Granger, no one brews this potion _only_ wanting a good night’s rest.”

“And yet, you still tried to save me. Are you still trying?” Blue, fainter than the yellow, moved before him. If she kept being emotionally charged, she would weaken farther.

He sighed as most would have given up on her when her intentions were made clear. But it was evident to him that the soul did not wish to die, that at her core, Hermione had only wanted to escape the pain, not life. “Call me a fool, call it a life debt being repaid. But I will not give up on you until your last heartbeat. And when you awaken, we will be discussing what actually drove you to this madness.”

“I’m sorry.” It was barely audible.

He nodded. “I am aware. But save your strength. I can’t have you expire before the ritual.”

“When you come to perform your part of the ritual, I will have to merge with my body.” There was fear in the soft tones. Another sign that her intention was not to cease to be.

Severus felt his lips draw into a tight line. “Yes.”

“And if I do and I die, I want to tell you that I have grown fond of you in this time, and you have been far too hard on yourself.” The cold spot on his shoulder was joined with another on the other shoulder. 

He turned away from her, feeling it pass through him. Any emotional complication that came from this situation would only affect the outcome. Regardless of his own feelings, he would have to be calm and focused. “This is not the time.”

She laughed, and it was unnerving; there was no joy in it. “It never is, but I may not have much more, so you will have to bear through this. Were this another way, and I was not about to cross over, I would never say this. In these three weeks, I have seen a side of you I did not believe existed. You are a good man, a _ mean _ man, but still a good one, and I am glad that I got to see that before I died.”

He swallowed, looking back at the shell of the woman he was risking much to save. “Hermione.”

“Severus.” His name sounded haunted on her lips.

“I am not going to let you die.” He said firmly, wishing he could touch her to assure her of his conviction. It was a strange desire for him, and he shook his head.

He saw a ghost of a smile on the shade. “You may not have a choice.”

“As long as your heartbeats, I do.” He affirmed.

Pink glided through the blue before fading. He’d seen it before, but he didn’t know what it meant. “If it stops, please do not blame yourself.”

Severus took in a deep breath, drawing himself up and together. “I have to focus, this magic is intention-based. Please go save your strength.”

“I will.” She drifted away from him, and he focused back on the task at hand.

  
  
  


Sunset would happen at precisely 7:14 pm, and that was when the ritual had to begin. He made last-minute checks over everything. They had one shot at this, and it could not go wrong for mistakes that could be caught.

“You have 2 minutes, Headmaster,” Luna said, dressed in a white dress. She wore a flower crown of daffodils and lily-of-the-valley. She looked like a member of the fae or some other supernatural creature in the flickering of the candlelight. 

He nodded, taking the vial in his hand, it shimmered blue with gold in it under the illumination of the candlelight.

Minerva placed her hand on his shoulder, face worried. “Severus, are you sure about this.”

“I am. If something happens, you are Headmistress while I am under this ritual.” He said, speaking the words so that the castle would acknowledge her as such. If something went awry, Hogwarts would still be protected.

Minerva nodded, taking a step back. “I understand.”

Luna came around to where he was standing, gesturing to the hospital bed. “Please get comfortable, Headmaster.”

Exhaling, he sat on the bed. It took him a moment to lie back, his head finding no pillow but the flat surface. 

_It was not meant to be comfortable..._ he had to remind himself of that.

“Now.” Luna looked at the timepiece on her wrist.

Tipping the vial to his lips, Severus swallowed the liquid. He closed his eyes, focusing on what had to be done, and before he knew it, he was asleep.

* * *

When he woke, the room was dark. 

Something pressed over his face, and he had to resist the urge to toss it away. 

Deep breaths calmed him, and he remembered what he had to do for the ritual.

“Is it you?” He heard Hermione whisper in the darkness, and he exhaled, nodding under the shroud.

A wash of her magic flowed over him, and he felt the shroud being slowly drawn away from his person. In the darkness, he saw nothing, but he felt her presence. He stayed still until the last bit of fabric left him. 

Lifting his hand, he bit his index finger, to ensure that he was alive and not sleeping. Luna had instructed him that it was a critical step.

He shifted off the bed, his now bare feet touching the floor. 

He’d been redressed in his slumber into funerary robes. The wreath that had been on his stomach was placed back on the bed as he took his feet. Knees ached, and joints groaned as he steadied on his legs.

In the dark, he walked toward the door, his hand pressing against the wood. 

Closing his eyes, he whispered the incantation in Arabic that Luna had drilled into his mind.  _ “From one life to the next, I hasten to the world of the living, seeking to retrieve my bride from her deathly slumber.” _

The infirmary was lit with candles, dim, and he was grateful for it. His eyes adjusted to the light quickly, and he moved from his ‘tomb’ to hers. While he slumbered, Hermione’s room had been changed into a space nearly identical to his. The cloak had been removed from her, and she looked as if she was not alive, her skin pale. Her hair was braided out around her, spread across the pillow with yellow flowers tucked into the plaits. On her chest was a wreath that had matched his.

Dread overcame him as he feared that he’d been too late. He had to swallow it back, focusing all his energy on the fact that he was going to bring Hermione back to life. 

He had to.

Hermione’s shade stood next to her body. “I know you are wary of this, so I shall let you know now, that I consent to your action.”

“Join your body so that both can rise.” He whispered quietly.

He watched as the shade shifted and seemed to fall into the body on the bed before him. Pressing back against the sorrow at that potentially being the last time they spoke, he knelt beside the bed.

“I am here, Hermione, to bring you from the cruel cold hands of death. Death, surrender her from your power, as you have before surrendered me.”  Severus closed his eyes, steeling himself for the next part of the ritual. 

He leaned over her, pressing a kiss to her lips, focusing his desire to bring her back to life in it.

Everything froze for a moment. 

He felt his body jerk as some magic took hold of him.

Severus Snape fell to the floor, _dead_.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There will be chapter 5, so do not panic.


	5. Chapter 5

“I was afraid of this. Severus, come on, you have to become aware.” 

Nothing felt right. 

Severus felt as if he were in a million pieces but at the same time like he was a single point of light.

Hermione’s voice was incessantly calling to him. 

Opening his eyes, he found himself in a darkened stone chamber. Looking around, Hermione was kneeling next to him. 

She was glowing with what looked like fae fire over her skin. “There you are. Is it you?”

He sat up, looking around the room, trying to understand how he’d gotten here.“If you mean, Severus, then yes, it is me. What happened?”

“My heart stopped amid the ritual,” Hermione said sadly.

Severus froze, the ritual, he’d only done the first incantation. 

_ Had he failed her? Had he killed her? _

“And we are?” His voice was hesitant as he looked around.

Her soft sigh carried a note of finality. “Dead.”

“Both of us?” The dread rose in him, and he looked over himself. The fae fire was not as bright over him, but it still danced over his skin.

Hermione nodded, sitting next to him now, worrying her hands. “Yes, for now.”

He crossed his leg, looking around the cavern. It had no entrances or exits and had just the two of them. The bluish-grey stone did not look foreboding, but rather depressing all the same. The quiet was unnerving. He realized it was because neither of them was actually breathing. Hermione's sighs were only audible because she was using them to show her disappointment.

“Care to explain that part?” Severus asked for clarification on the _‘for now’_ part.

Her brown eyes looked at him with deep sorrow. “You don’t belong here, you’ll be taken back soon.”

“And you?” He asked, raising his eyebrow.

“My heart stopped.” Hermione skewed her lips, tears in her eyes.

  
  


**_No._ **

_ This is **not** how this was going to end.  _

He had seen the fall of tyrants and survived the halls of death and made a life for himself. Severus Snape was not going to give up, not not. He filled with righteous indignation at a universe that would have this happen. “I am not leaving without you, I came here to save you.”

“I told you might not be able to.” She cried.

Shaking his head, he got to his feet, before grabbing her and pulling her to her own. “And I have learned that believing in the impossible often has fair results. Do not underestimate what I am willing to do to save you.”

Hermione gave him a small smile, shaking her head as she wiped away her tears with her fingers. “You are more honest like this.”

“Like what?” He tilted his head, hands still on her shoulders.

She chuckled. “As a soul.”

Severus took a moment to himself over. Hermione had a purplish-blue fire around her. He expected that he would be the absence of light, but instead, he had a golden-green sort of glow. “Intriguing, that is. I expected more black, less light.”

Hermione’s hand touched his shoulder, and the fire seemed to blend together, becoming bright golden. “You would. You don’t realize that you washed your soul clean.”

The change in color intrigued him, and he looked to where his hands were on her arms. The fae fire seemed to do the same thing, where they met flickering like a torchlight.

  
  


Somewhere in the distance, a bell sounded.

  
  
It brought him back to the most essential matter at hand. “So, there is no chance of saving you.” 

“No. I don’t think there ever was.” She admitted, frowning at him.

If they could be so honest with each other, Severus wondered if she was under the same constraints she’d put on herself in life. “Are you bound here as you were in life?”

“No. Ask what you will,” Hermione said, still standing before him, one hand on his shoulder.

He tumbled over all the questions he had for her, but he kept coming back to the hardest to understand. “Why?”

He hoped that she knew what he was asking; Severus didn’t know how much more time he would have here with her.

To his fortune, her sad expression told him that Hermione knew what he was talking about. “As someone like you should know, loneliness is a terrible thing. But being abandoned and forgotten something much worse.” 

That didn’t make any sense to him. Hermione was a renowned witch, esteemed worldwide, and capable of magics that were complicated and powerful. She had many friends in the world, so many had come forward when this happened. 

_ How had she felt abandoned and forgotten? _

  
  


Hermione seemed to read the questions on his face, as she explained. “Harry and Ron went off to be the heroes, continued the fight as Aurors. I retreated to my books and teaching, and the world made me a footnote. Harry and Ron made me a footnote. They may have thought they were giving me the privacy that Harry and Ron thought I sought, but they had isolated me. Assigned me to a pedestal of esteem and left me there to rot. No one seemed to need me anymore.”

His face fell, and Severus stumbled over his own thoughts. “Your students, your research, your other friends?”

“It’s not the same. You go home to an empty room, an empty bed every night, and know that no one has the guts or desire to be in your life. That you are either not good enough for some, or too good for others. Even you kept me at arm’s length, always making me an outsider.” Hermione said sadly, this time moving to draw away from him, her hand leaving his shoulder. 

Guilt pervaded his senses, and he shook his head, gripping her arm as he looked into her eyes with unspoken apologies. “I did not mean to.”

“The road to hell is paved with good intentions.” Another mirthless laugh left her, like the one from before the ritual.

It was a truth that he held close to his soul, after all that he’d done in his life, good intention or otherwise. “I know.”

A long quiet pause fell between them, and Severus searched for something, some way to solve this.

Hermione took it on herself to keep talking. “I took on a complicated task because I thought I’d talk myself out of it. But as I did more and dove more into it, I decided it was the right course. I wanted to top hurting to stop feeling like my life ended the day we won.”

Severus had felt that way many times before. When the war ended, it felt like there was no place for a spy for both sides. There was no place that he fit in, so he had to claw and create that space for himself. “I understand that feeling.”

“I am sure you do.” Hermione sighed, no longer looking at him, but at the ground under their feet.

  
  
A part of him was overcome with guilt. Hermione was his employee, she lived under the same roof as him, and he never saw the signs. Either she was good at concealing it, or he didn’t care enough to look. Regret told him it was the latter of those two that had to lead them here. He’d been blinded by his prejudice that he never once looked at the woman who was obviously struggling.

“Hermione, if you had come to me, spoken to me.”

Hermione made a face that was pain and anguish mingled as one. “And said what? Headmaster, I want to die.”

“If that is all you could have said, then yes?” Severus nodded.

Hermione shook her head then as if she didn’t believe what she was hearing. “And what would you have done then? Berated me, told me I was spoiled and daft and that I had no idea what real pain was.”

Part of him knew that before this event, he might have reacted that way at first. But if she’d come to him to say those things, that he’d have taken time to consider it afterward and taken action. “I would have told you that we all have those moments. I would have watched you more closely, might have offered something for the symptoms.”

“Now, maybe. But I doubt you would have then.” The words were heavy with the burden of truth.

**But not the whole truth.**

  
  


Emotions began to rise in him, and he did not have the defenses now against them as he had when he was in his physical body. Things screamed in him to be said, and he could not prevent them. “Hermione, I kept you at arm’s length to not get attached to you.”

“What do you mean?” There was disbelief in her voice and curiosity in her eyes.

He swallowed. “You are young, beautiful, quick as a whip, smarter than your peers on nearly every level. You can talk circles around any debate partner, and you pride yourself on your exacting and perfect order in your life and classroom. How could I stop myself from falling for that?”

He watched as she turned a bright pink under his gaze and smiled. “More honesty than I expected.”

“Assuredly, as I would never say this otherwise.” He admitted aloud, knowing that he would have never in a million years told her these things if he had his defenses up.

  
  
Another bell sounded, this time closer and louder.

She looked wistfully at the walls around them. “Do you know why I chose this poison.”

“No, I don’t. That is what confuses me.” Severus admitted, hoping to gain some clarity now. The sound of the bell had reminded him of something he’d heard a long time ago.

Hermione grimaced. “It does require true love to neutralize.”

Realization dawned on him. None of this would have worked if no one among them was Hermione's, true love. She knew all along that it was doomed to failure. The bind had prevented her from saying anything. “And you believe that no one would be able to have that sort of love for you.” 

A bitter, angry laugh left her lips. “Believe it? No, I know it.”

Something warm filled him, and he thought carefully about the feeling. It was not the first time he experienced it, but the first time he ever acknowledged it. “I am inclined to believe you may be wrong.”

“Don’t pretend you have the depth of emotions about me for that.” Hermione snapped, shaking her head.

Severus gripped her arms tighter, keeping her from withdrawing from him. “I do not pretend, nor do I claim to be your true love. But, I have deep emotions tied to you.”

Her eyes met his, and she nodded as if this was not a secret to her. “I know, Luna, and I could see it. It is part of why I choose to attach my soul to you. I thought the emotions were hate, which made it a safer bet that you wouldn’t save me. My master plan fell through.”

Severus had to take a moment to absorb what she had just told him. She’d known, all along that he felt strongly about her, but mistook it for hatred. She expected that hatred to keep him from saving her and still allowing her to linger until her body expired. Maybe even longer if the ritual had not been active when she died.

The fact that she died hit him hard again. There had to be some solution to this. 

_ If Potter could skip town on death twice and he could do it once, why could Hermione not as well? _

“Did you really want to die?” His words were sincere and probing. He had an idea.

She closed her eyes, “Not really. I just wanted to kill the part of me that hurt all the time.”

“I see,” Severus said thoughtfully, going over his options.

  
  
A louder bell rang out; it shook the walls of the cavern.

Hermione gasped, her hands grabbing his bicep. Their fire shifted gold there. “You are growing fainter; you must be returning soon.”

“Not without you,” Severus said, pulling her to him in such a way that she was pressed to his chest. Where they met, it was nothing but a golden light.

A meek whisper left her. “Severus?”

His chest was on fire with her proximity. “Hermione, allow me to suggest something so outlandish that it is assuredly the first time I have ever said it.” 

“Go on.” She nodded, pressing her head into his chest. The warmth within him expanded through his limbs.

He gazed into her eyes, letting the sensation guide his words. “I may not be your true love, but, in time, I think I could love you more than you might imagine.”

Tears filled her eyes, and Hermione looked crushed. “We don’t have time.”

“We don’t, we have this moment.” Severus breathed out.

  
  


He dipped his head, capturing her lips in a kiss. The feeling of warmth turned into a raging heat, and it pressed out of him, dancing over his skin. She kissed him back, her hands moving to wrap him in her embrace. The fae fire around them shifted to the golden light. Severus had to close his eyes against it, it was so bright.

A final bell sounded.

* * *

Severus gasped in a lung full of air and jerked up, causing Minerva to scream bloody murder.

“No!” He yelled, pressing up from the bedside to scramble to Hermione’s side.  His fingers sought the pulse, and there was nothing; she was cold. 

A strangled cry left his lips, and he ignored the hands, grabbing him, trying to pull him back from her. 

Minerva sobbed. “She’s gone. We thought you were too.”

He shrugged her hands off of his, leaning over Hermione, his hand brushing against her cheek.

“You cannot leave, not now.” He gasped out, and he pressed another kiss to her lips.

Time stilled again, and magic seemed to escape him.

He closed his eyes, wanting her alive, begging, pleading, and praying for Death to give her back to him. 

She couldn’t go now, not when he knew what he knew. When he understood what he felt. 

Death could not take her from him now.

Suddenly two hands reached up, cupping his face, and the cold lips under him kissed him back.  Tears escaped his eyes, and he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her up into his arms as their lips joined. He had no idea how long they kissed, but when he came up from the air, she was looking at him with brown eyes and a pleasing smile.

  
  
  


“Hermione, is it you?” He breathed out as if he was unsure that he’d not gone mad or was still dead.

She ran her fingers along the side of his face, and he felt the warmth of her. “It is me. Is it you, Severus? I heard your voice. In that terrible darkness, after your soul left mine, I heard you pleading with Death. I heard you, and he said he would gift you with what you desired. He gave us time.”

“I told you, I wasn’t leaving without you.” He nodded, thanking Death for granted requests.

Hermione whispered. “Thank you.”

Severus gave her another kiss, pulling her close as if he was going to lose her at any moment. Hermione’s fingers were in his hair, and it felt as if they had both surrendered to each other at that moment.

  
  
  


“Congratulations!” Luna shouted from behind them, clapping. 

It broke Severus from the illusion that they were alone. He drew back from Hermione, and she looked over her shoulder. He let her go, slipping from the bed that he had seemingly crawled into.

He cleared his throat, trying to collect himself. “Thank you, Miss Lovegood, for being the one who managed to solve the unsolvable.”

The pale woman bounced on her toes, grinning from ear to ear. “Oh, of course, Headmaster. I am sure you and Hermione will be very happy together.”

“Thank you, Luna, for saving my life,” Hermione said, slipping from the bed to get to her feet. Muscles protested from not being used for so long, and she had to sit on the edge for quite a moment. 

Luna walked past Severus and took a seat next to Hermione, grasping her hands. “You must take time off for a honeymoon. I would suggest Spain this time of year, the wrackspurts have migrated.”

“Honeymoon? What on earth are you going on about, Miss Lovegood.” It was Minerva who beat Severus to the punch in asking what she meant.

She gave that sort of distant, dreamy smile, looking between all of them before looking back to Minerva. “The Headmaster and Hermione just got married. You are supposed to take a honeymoon after.”

His blood seemed to fall from his face, and Severus closed his eyes, pinching his nose as he looked at the blonde woman. “Miss Lovegood, did you neglect to tell us some part of the ritual.”

“Not at all. The prince married the princess by waking her up. You are now in the eyes of your magic married.” Luna’s voice was lilted in a singsong tone.

Hermione looked at Severus wide-eyed as if she were afraid and then back to her friend. “Luna? You didn’t tell my soul this.”

Luna tilted her head, frowning in confusion. “I did so, I read you the whole story.”

“Yes, but you said some parts were incorrect.” Severus found himself interjecting into this conversation. He found it hard to believe what he was hearing, but at the same time, it did not feel as if it was untrue.

Luna showed her teeth in a bright smile. “Well, of course.”

Minerva put her hand on Severus’s arm, looking at Miss Lovegood with skepticism. “So, Severus and Hermione are now married.”

“Yes, isn’t it lovely.” Luna’s shoulders were raised in excitement. She was the only one in the room who looked like she had a wonderful time this evening.

Minerva looked at Severus like she saw him for the first time and then let out a deep sigh. “I think I need a drink.”

“I think we all do.” Severus intoned, extending his hand to help Hermione to her feet.

She took his hand, and he steadied her as she wobbled on her ankles. Severus drew her close, tucking his arm around her shoulders so that she did not fall.

  
  
  
  


“Well, Hermione shouldn’t actually drink.” Luna had her finger on her chin, brow furrowed with thoughtfulness.

Hermione questioned. “Why is that?”

Luna grabbed her hand, and Severus watched the interaction between the two.

“Won’t be good for the baby.” The blonde said.

Severus felt as if someone had just punched him in the gut and knocked all the wind out of him. 

“ _Baby?_ ” At the same time, he and Hermione exclaimed.

She shrugged, rocking on her toes. “Or babies. I told you, the old fairytales weren’t always right. Aurora’s twins weren’t born because he slept with her body. They came to be because they merged souls. I do hope you will invite me to birth.”

Hermione’s eyes met Severus’s.

He didn’t know what to say or to think. At this moment, his whole world was turned upside, and he was trying to figure out where the ground was.

“Luna- are you telling me I am now pregnant,” Hermione said, still looking at Severus. 

He could read the worry and fear in her eyes.

“Yes.” Luna chimed.

Her hand came up to her head, and he felt like she was trying to sink to the ground. “Oh, Circe.”

Severus moved her back to the bed, unsure if he could keep her upright. She grabbed hold of his hand when he made to step away. His gaze moved to her grip before back to her face. “Hermione.”

She started laughing. It was quiet at first, and then it grew into an enormous roar of almost insane laughter.

Severus was concerned, and he held her hand, wondering if all of this had made her snap in some form.

After a long moment, she took in many deep breaths. “I suppose that death has a sense of humor. I thought I had nothing to live for before.”

“And now.” He asked, still unsure about the whole situation. He’d not expected to come out of this married and an expectant father. Hell, the idea about either of those prospects scared the shit out of him.

She squeezed his hand, shrugging. “Well, I suppose we have a lot to talk about.”

He could accept that as an answer. Severus needed time to come to terms with and think about everything that had just happened in such a short time. And he would not forget the reason they had come to this point either. “And you and I will still be talking about what lead to this.”

“Oh?” She seemed surprised.

He served her a look reserved for students who made dumb assumptions. “I am not daft enough to think that _a kiss_ solved all your problems.”

“Just some of them.” She tried to smile as if she were telling a joke.

Severus shook his head. “Cheek will get you nowhere.”

“Where will a kiss get me?” Hermione blushed.

He looked at her, willfully forgetting everyone else in the room. “ _Everywhere_.”

Hermione pressed herself up from the bed, wrapping her arms around his neck. He caught her, encircling her in his arms as he kissed her deeply.

  
  
  


He never once thought that the Prince heritage would benefit him in any way, but now, it had gained him the Gryffindor Princess.

  
  
  
  


Hermione spent many years in therapy for her depression and hasn’t relapsed in a long time. 

Severus got the family he never thought he deserves and determined himself to be the father never had.

And their son was always put to bed with a kiss to the brow and Hermione whispering every so softly “ _Good Night, Sweet Prince_.”

  
  


And they lived happily ever after.

  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's it.  
> This prompt went some fun and strange places.
> 
> Shout out to Relish Redshoes for helping me to navigate this plot and for CorvusDraconis for being the most amazing at keeping me motivated to write and pecking me when I did not.

**Author's Note:**

> I decided to write four more chapters, due to popular demand.


End file.
